


Mien’harel

by lyriumlovesong



Series: The Rabbit and The Lion [18]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angry Lavellan, Angst, Blood, Blood and Violence, Dragon Age Quest: Protect Clan Lavellan, F/M, Red Templars, Stabbing, Violence, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 18:18:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13576266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyriumlovesong/pseuds/lyriumlovesong
Summary: mien'harel: a violent call for justice





	Mien’harel

**Author's Note:**

> This piece was written as part of the [DA Drunk Writers' Circle](http://dadrunkwriting.tumblr.com/). The prompt given was "Don't tell me what to do."

“Freya, think about it.”

  
Varric’s voice carried across the clearing to where she was standing, hunched over the supine body of the last living member of a group of Templars. The armored knight lay in a pool of blood, right where she had felled him. His chest heaved as he gasped ragged breaths.  
  
“If he’s got knowledge, we could use it,” Varric continued, taking a few tentative steps toward her.  
  
She looked down at the Templar, her cold gaze searching his face. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his gritted teeth flooded with the blood that was filling his mouth.  
  
“Dorian could heal him. We could make him talk.”  
  
“You think I want to hear him  _talk?”_ asked Freya, bending down to look the man in the eye. “I don’t have two fucks to give about anything this shitheel has to say.”  
  
The Templar looked up at her, lips curling up into a sinister grin.

“Oh, but I could tell you some things, girly. You want to know the last thing your mama said before she died?”  
  
Freya’s heart caught in her throat.

“Aye,” the man went on, nodding, “I heard all about the attack on your clan. Took no prisoners, did they sweetheart? They say you look just like her. As she was dying, the bitch used her last breaths to cry for her sons.” He raised his voice into a mocking falsetto. “‘ _Don’t hurt my babies!_ ’”  
  
Freya’s hand tightened around the grip of her blade, her fingernails turning white as she squeezed it.  
  
“‘Course, they was already dead. Gutted like fish, your little brothers.”  
  
He looked at her expression and laughed.  
  
“He’s just playing you, Freya,” Dorian said, and she realized by the sound of his voice that he stood just a few paces behind her. “He’s  _trying_  to set you off.”  
  
“If you know what happened to them,” she said, ignoring the mage, her voice cold and even, “then you  _also_  know what happened to the Knight Commander of that Templar battalion when I caught up to him.”

“Is that s’posed to scare me?” he asked, and he spat a mouthful of blood. “Say you don’t kill me and I talk. What do you imagine the Inquisition is going to do with a Red Templar? Give me sandwiches at teatime and a feather mattress to sleep on? No, it’ll be a lifetime sentence rotting in a cold cell at best. Execution at worst. Either way, my days are numbered. But  _you_ … you’ve got a bright future, Inquisitor.”  
  
Freya’s eyes narrowed as she stared at him.

“Aye, the Templar Order has  _big_  plans for you. And your  _Commander_.” He paused, looking at her with interest. “You look surprised. Didn’t know that we knew, eh? Oh  _yes_. Raleigh Samson studies his enemy  _very_  carefully.”

He spat another mouthful of scarlet onto the grass.  
  
“Freya,” Dorian said, a note of warning in his voice. “Freya, take your hand off your dagger. We  _need_  his information.”

“He’ll turn Rutherford first,” the Templar told her, his evil smile widening. “Make you watch as he goes mad while the lyrium splits him into pieces from the inside. And Samson won’t kill you himself. No, once Corypheus is done learning what he needs to know about that…  _thing_ on your hand, he’ll let your Commander do the honors. Maybe first he’ll let the men watch as he fucks you raw, just like they did to your knife-ear moth–”  
  
“Freya, no!”  
  
The blade was out and into the man’s guts before anyone even saw a flash of metal. The Templar looked down in surprise to see it sticking out of his belly, buried to the hilt with a river of red pooling around it and spilling over his sides. She pulled it out, watching as he spluttered and choked, little sprays of crimson spittle flying up from his mouth.

As he drew in his last few rasping breaths, Freya carefully wiped her blade in the grass before sheathing it again. She stood, giving the Templar’s boot a kick. He didn’t move. Turning to Dorian, she gave him the same icy glare she had just been using on the dead man at her feet.

“If you value our friendship,” she said, anger still etched into every line on her face, “you will remember what these men did to my clan. Every clash of my blade against theirs sings with their cries for justice. If you want to follow me, and fight beside me, you will not forget what I have lost in order to lead the Inquisition. And you will never,  _ever_  tell me what to do again.”

Without another word, she strode past him, leaving a trail of bloody footprints in her wake.


End file.
